


(un)pretty

by graffitiedtrainlights



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:36:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graffitiedtrainlights/pseuds/graffitiedtrainlights
Summary: it's hard being so unpretty





	(un)pretty

Walking past the department store to see the high waisted skinny jeans with the three buttons that she absolutely adored, she headed into the fray, telling her mother she’ll be right back. As soon as she steps inside, though, she feels as if all eyes suddenly turns to her and she freezes. Suddenly watching everyone, she shuffles over to the shelf with the jeans. White, blue, black and red are all so pretty, but the eyes, oh, the eyes burned into her. She starting curling her fingers into her shirt, shaking slightly. She’s standing motionless in front of the display.  
Deciding she can’t take it, she starts to walk out, but stops and looks back at them. She wanted to try them on, but then her mother’s words ring in her ears. “You wouldn’t look right with those” was what she had said. She looked down at her body, bust too big and belly protruding. Her cursed hips dips and too thick thighs. The battle was over.  
She hurried out of the department store, tears at the back of her eyes, back to her mother’s side, who didn’t notice anything wrong. The rest of the day went by miserably, looking at all the pretty things she wanted, but didn’t feel pretty enough to wear.

Years later, a different mall, she’s looking for a cute top to wear for a trip. She spies the shoulderless top that she’s always wanted to try on because they were just so pretty. It’s easier in this shop, moms and old ladies mulling about. She goes to try in on, struggling slightly, but she’s excited. She loves the shirt, but one look into the mirror and a frown etches onto her face. Her shoulders don’t look right bare, they’re too wide. She brings her hair around, but it still looks wrong. She feels the tears of embarrassment well up, the pain of not being able to wear something she’s loved. She pulls it off and pulls her ugly oversized sweater back on, concealing her not right body.  
She doesn’t try on anything else in that store.  
She tries again in another shop, this one filled with skinny teenage girls. She takes a few steps in and walks back out, the atmosphere of judgement too much for her already fragile confidence. She tries once more.  
This time there’s not many people in the large store. She sees dresses she admires, but puts them back as too much skin was not for her body type. She dismisses everything she sees until her mother tells her, exasperated, “You’re so picky, do you not like being pretty?”  
She cries silently, I do, I do, but not a word escapes her mouth. She finally picks some overall shorts and a shirt, which she tries on.  
She finds out the shorts are a skirt that is too short and her too fat tummy piles out the sides of the overalls. She likes it, but it is uncomfortable seeing the bulges in her side. She gets it, but never wears it.

Her mother tells her to take off one of her various ugly oversized sweatshirts, scolding, “You’d be so much prettier if you just tried.” She keeps it on.  
She scrolls through instagram, admiring all the pretty clothes on the pretty girls and imagines herself as one of them. She looks online on shopping websites, looking at all the cute tops and pretty skirts and dresses that she would love to wear. She doesn’t have money, though, but she knows her mother is willing to pay. She doesn’t ask her mother in fear of “Oh, so you’re going to try and look cute now?” Items sit in her cart, unbought, and she searches for more to add to the one day when I save up money list. When she does save up money enough to buy one thing, she doesn’t. She looks at it once more and thinks, this probably wouldn’t look good on me actually, and buys another oversized sweatshirt.  
She sits sometimes and looks at the skinny idols and models. It hurts her, as she looks in the mirror at the disgusting hair on her legs and stomach and her pale breasts, her tummy rolls and back fat, her double chin and muffin top. She cries.  
She cries because she hates looking in the mirror to see that ugly acne-covered girl and knowing that it’s her. That she can change herself, but the motivation she needs to do so is lacking. That when every time she feels she’s getting confident, her mother says “You look like you’re gaining again.”  
But she keeps going. She wipes her tears, and glares at her reflection as if to say this is your own damn fault. And she leaves with her oversized sweater to cover her hip dip, her tummy rolls, her stretch marks, her muffin top, her unattractive chest.  
And she sits by the reflective windows, every glance making her hate herself a little more. She watches the cute boys she knows she will never have a chance with because they only want the skinny ones, the pretty ones. She smiles with her skinny friends as they talk about how fat they are. She accepts compliments from people who tell her she’s beautiful, but knows in her heart that it’s just not true and she waits. She waits for the day that she might be able to force herself to become pretty.

**Author's Note:**

> m at watt @emeuyyie
> 
> the format got fucked up transferring from docs sorry


End file.
